


i would still like you, you see

by autoclave (hongsan)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Married Couple, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:39:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongsan/pseuds/autoclave
Summary: Hongjoong reaches out for someone who’s not there.





	i would still like you, you see

_ I like you, and I’d like you to like me to like you _

_ But I don’t need you _

_ Don't need you to need me to like you _

_ Because if you didn't like me _

_ I would still like you, you see _

— 

The petals are purple. 

Unmistakably purple as the spill from his mouth into his hands, coughing fit turned into something more, just more painful and god—

Hongjoong can’t handle the pitying eyes of their friends as he coughs more of the wretched purple petals, can’t handle the stillness that surrounds him as he feels his world crumble. 

The sounds of chatter in the restaurant dull, fading into the background and Hongjoong can’t tell if it’s because of the sad scene unfolding before everyone there or because of his own inability to process anything other than the petals. 

They’re purple and vibrant, and all over his hands and the table, and god— it’s so many already.

Hongjoong thinks he hears Seonghwa begin to speak, standing from where he sat next to Hongjoong, trying to reach out and comfort him with a warm gentle hand. Hongjoong tears himself away from the gentle hand at his shoulder, and Seonghwa’s expression makes him feel  _ guilty.  _ Like he owes him an apology. As if he didn’t just start showing symptoms of the worst kind of heartbreak. As if this was a one time incident, a quick fix.

Hongjoong excuses himself.

The tears come freely once he’s able to lock himself in the bathroom, and the tightness in his chest is still there, purple flower petals now spilling into the sink that he’s leaning over, coughing violently. His body shakes, and he grabs the edge of the sink to steady himself. He stares at his hands, gripping the basin of the sink so tight, his knuckles are white.

The glint of his wedding band makes him collapse onto the ground and sob. 

— 

Hongjoong wonders about the exact moment Seonghwa fell out of love with him. 

He lays in bed, alone, staring at the blank white ceiling, eyes threatening to fill with tears (but they don’t come now, not when he needs the satisfaction of course.)

Sometime’s hanahaki takes time to appear, months or years of unrequited love and pining. A slow but anticipated illness for many.

Most people expect it. Falling in love with friends who will only ever see them as that, their heart full of ache and love for someone who would not see them the same way. Sometimes, it works out. Hongjoong remembers hearing all sorts of stories of those who had it and then their unrequited love was returned and everything was great. Perfect. Beautiful. 

Hongjoong also remembers the less happy stories.

He squeezes his eyes shut and wills the thought away. 

Hongjoong continues to wonder.

Hongjoong wonders if it’s all the time they’ve spent apart. Wonders if it’s the increasing frequency of their fights over trivial things. Wonders if it’s the stress of both their lives. Wonders if that’s just what happens in relationships sometimes.

The tears finally come again, pooling in his eyes and a sob builds in his chest, it hurts, it  _ hurts _ , and he tries to muffle it by turning to his side and curling up into himself. Sobs into his pillow and holds himself, but doesn’t stop wondering.

Wonders why it matters because Seonghwa doesn’t love him anymore and Hongjoong still does. 

— 

They don’t speak.

Seonghwa’s sad, apologetic eyes make Hongjoong’s skin crawl with sadness and anger— but mostly sadness. 

So he avoids him because, well, maybe the emotional pain will go away.

His heart aches with it, tightening in his chest when they happen to run into each other in their home, suddenly strangers.

Sometimes they stand there and Hongjoong feels his eyes on him, feels his gaze and he can’t meet it, he can’t bring himself to look at Seonghwa. Words start tumbling in his head, questions, all of them, but they stop in his throat before he can even open his mouth. He stares at his feet awkwardly until one of them decides to leave.  

Sometimes he hears Seonghwa take a breath like he’s going to say something,  _ anything—  _

But it wouldn’t matter, even if he did speak past the shaky breath, even if he didn’t just scoot past Hongjoong with mumblings of apologies, it wouldn’t matter what he did, since the purple petals keep coming up. 

Despite how much it hurts, Hongjoong keeps his wedding band. 

— 

Calls and texts keep coming in. From everyone, ever since the first incident some days ago. All Hongjoong’s friends— no  _ their  _ friends— lighting up his phone with “Please talk to me”s and “I’m here for you”s.

Hongjoong doesn’t answer. 

Their words are just another reminder of everything, and the petals are plenty. 

There’s more now, and the coughing fits have turned into vomiting, Hongjoong slouches over the edge of the toilet until they stop. 

He’s thankful they don’t happen while Seonghwa’s home. There’s a guilt that sits in him at the idea of that, worrying that Seonghwa would hurt seeing him that way. 

It’s laughable, but Hongjoong still feels it.

Hongjoong tries to clean up the petals quickly, erasing the trace of them (and the beginnings of blood that come with them), despite the way his chest hurts with more than just the feeling of flowers blooming in his chest.

Seonghwa starts staying somewhere else. Hongjoong’s not sure well. The text message ‘ _ I won’t be home tonight.’  _ stares at him, soft glow of his phone in the darkness where he’s curled up by himself in bed.

In the middle of the night, Hongjoong reaches out for somene who’s not there.


End file.
